love is our resistance
by Zayz
Summary: L/J. Lily and James fight hard to maintain the holiday spirit for Harry's first Christmas. A Christmas present for Lenne.


A/N: This is for my Secret Santa buddy, **Lenne **(infinitehazels/augustuswatersthechristmastr ee on Tumblr).

Lenne, my dear, you deserve a better Secret Santa than me. Thanks to a series of unfortunate events, your gift got done embarrassingly late, and also my muse has forgotten how to write things, so I've had a lot of trouble making this fit for human eyes. So, I apologize – especially because you made me such a lovely gift – but this is the best I could do and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

& I know you asked for happy fluff, but my brain was in bittersweet angst mode, and at this point, you just needed _some _kind of gift. So even though it wasn't quite what you wanted, I hope this works for you anyway.

Merry Christmas, Lenne – and of course, Merry Christmas to the rest of you Jily fans. Hope you like this. xx

* * *

love is our resistance  
By: Zayz

* * *

"Lils?"

Lily grunted slightly, her features crumpling with dread and irritation. She squirmed a little under her cocoon blanket on the couch as James gently shook her. In the distance, she could hear a baby whimpering.

James leaned into her and planted a light kiss on her earlobe, his lips warm against her skin. "Lils, I hate to wake you, but I think Harry needs a feed, and we're out of formula," he whispered in her ear. "I should have bought some today, but…well, I didn't."

Lily cracked open one eyelid, then the other. James's anxious face swam above her; as her eyes adjusted to consciousness, the tightness around his mouth, the slightly oily messiness of his hair, the bags under his eyes came into sharper relief. He looked, frankly, terrible. Exhausted. Lily blinked a few times, yawned, and stretched out her limbs, as James stood over her. She glanced at her wrist; her watch informed her that it was now 7:18pm.

"Merlin's beard, James, I've been asleep for four hours!" This woke her up more effectively than anything else.

"You were exhausted," James reminded her. "Harry's been sick, remember?"

"Yes, but James, it's Christmas Eve, and I've been lying here like a lump instead of making cookies, or…or wrapping your gift – fuck, James, I forgot to wrap your gift!" Her eyes were wild; she immediately sat up, bit her lip, mentally ran over the rest of the things she had not done that day. "It's still sitting in my lingerie drawer, and I had the wrapping paper in the back of the closet behind all of my shoes, and it was going to be so lovely and you were going to be so surprised—"

"Lily, please, relax." James sat on the couch beside her feet, and rubbed reassuring circles into her ankle. "You don't need to worry about those things, all right?"

"And Harry! Why am I not feeding Harry?" Lily wrenched her ankle out from under James's hand and leapt to her feet, scurrying off to the nursery where Harry lay in his crib, his lower lip jutting out, whimpering blearily as he simultaneously attempted to reach the lit-up animals on his crib's mobile.

He was getting old enough to smile when he saw his parents, and he greeted Lily with a big one now, and raised his arms towards her, grabbing at the air with his little fingers. She picked him up and took him back to the living room, where James was still sitting on the couch, waiting for her. She sat beside him, and settled Harry in for his feed, and sighed as she surveyed their living room.

The two of them had been fully distracted by Harry's cold all through last night and this morning – sitting up with him, trying both Muggle medication and magical remedies to unblock his tiny congested nose, entertain him when he got fussy, ease the fever that hit at four am and didn't subside until eleven. James had taken a nap some time during this fever, and Lily fell asleep later, while tracking Harry's body temperature, to make sure the fever hadn't come back.

Because of this, the laundry from yesterday afternoon sat in a basket in the middle of the room, and some of Harry's stray socks and tiny t-shirts were strewn on the loveseat and the floor in the hallway. He had refused food while ill, and when they tried to force something into him, he got sick everywhere and wailed as loud as his baby lungs would allow him. They had evidently put a higher priority on getting him new clothes and giving him more baby food than worrying about the old soiled clothes.

They had done a Christmas tree this year, and it sat in the corner of the living room, glowing with strings of multi-colored lights and tinsel. But there were no gifts beneath it, because Lily had been exhausted and James had been distracted, and neither of them had gotten around to it. The tree was the only evidence in this house, that Christmas was indeed upon them. All the traditions from their childhoods – cookies, Christmas music, champagne, party guests – were absent, leaving their little cottage still and silent.

Even the sky had refused to oblige today; it had not snowed in several days, and the little that had stuck to the ground had thawed by now. It was bitterly cold, but cloudy – not even the stars had bothered to come out tonight.

Harry finished feeding, and Lily held him against her shoulder, patting his back to get him burping. She turned her body so that she faced James, and she informed him, in that determined way she had, which meant she was about to become a force of nature he would do well to steer clear of— "Once Harry has given me a satisfactory burp, I am going to give you a proper Christmas."

* * *

Once Harry gave three excellent burps that would have done Sirius proud, Lily put Harry inside his play-pen with a few stuffed animals, and let him gurgle and chew on the toys as she got into Serious Holiday Mode. She shooed James away upstairs, telling him to take a shower and get cleaned up – he still smelled slightly of baby vomit – and she dug her mother's old recipe book out of a cupboard, and began to make Christmas cookies.

She was just putting them in the oven when James arrived downstairs, freshly washed and significantly happier than he had been before his shower.

"Can I do anything to help, Lils?" he asked, coming up to hug her.

"You can make sure that the cookies get out of the oven when the timer beeps," she said, ducking out of his hug and making a run for the telephone in the living room. "I'm going to go call the gang. Alice, Frank, Sirius, Remus, Peter – everybody. We're going to have people over for a proper Christmas party. Owls will be too slow. I _told _you investing in telephones for all of us was a good idea." She rolled her eyes in James's general direction as she dialed Alice's number.

Harry cooed cheerfully from his play-pen as Lily got answering machines for every single one of their friends. Frustrated, but undaunted, she ran back to the kitchen, where James was sitting on the counter and watching the oven, and said, "You want to Apparate to Remus's place? Sirius will be there anyway, and knowing them, they will both be asleep on the couches. You can wake them up and bring them here. Tell them there's cookies. That will convince Sirius."

"Lily—"

"Here, let me find you the Cloak." At once, she was off, bounding up the stairs into their bedroom, where the Cloak was hidden beneath the mattress. She returned downstairs and shoved it into James's hands, her green eyes expectant.

"Off you go. And make sure you go to Alice's as well, please."

"Lily—"

"Just _go_, Dumbledore won't mind, it's Christmas Eve and he can hardly expect us to stay cooped up forever." Another wave of inspiration struck her. "What about Bathilda? James, pop over to Bathilda's too, won't you? I'm sure she would love some Christmas cookies and a cup of tea."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then her hands were back on her hips, as she surveyed the kitchen and living room critically.

"I'll get this place decorated while you're gone," she said, mostly to herself. "Yes, we can't have a proper Christmas without candles and holly – and maybe a bit of mistletoe too."

She made a beeline for the attic, where all their Christmas decorations from last year were stored. They had bought plenty – strings of lights, everlasting candles, Christmas wreaths that sang carols. She gathered it up, as much as she could carry, and marched around the house, putting it up with her wand, as Harry giggled and clapped at all the colors from his playpen.

James had not moved from his spot in the kitchen, as Lily began the living room – and she didn't even notice. She concentrated so fiercely on the perfect placement for her wreaths, which had indeed begun singing again, this time a hearty choral arrangement of "Jingle Bells." As she guided the wreath to its proper spot with her wand, her wand arm raised high, he noticed how thin she had gotten, how her frame looked so small in her red reindeer sweater.

James had bought her that sweater, for Christmas in their seventh year at Hogwarts – and back then, it had fit her like a glove. Now, it hung a little loose on her. Her wrists were extra bony, peeking out from the sleeve of the sweater. Even her hair seemed thinner these days; once thick and full and slightly frizzy, it now lay limp and obedient in its ponytail.

Part of it was simply because she was a new mother; she had given birth only five months ago, after all, and infants were serious work. And the pregnancy itself had been tough on her. She had been sick a lot, vomiting almost every morning without fail for the first trimester, and she'd had some trouble with back-pain. Dumbledore had been reluctant to let a member of the Order go to St. Mungo's, so Lily was at the mercy of healing spells performed by the Order – and even with magic, she had been in pain.

And now, they were getting on okay – Harry was generally a placid child – but motherhood still took a lot out of Lily. And, worse, she was growing frustrated of late. Frustrated because they were cooped up in this cottage instead of being out there, doing Order work, feeling important.

He knew the feeling, of course he did – he, more than anyone, needed space to let off steam – but they were in danger, the tiny baby chewing on his stuffed animals in the next room was in danger, and he would happily lie low, if it meant keeping his family safe. And he would indulge Lily tonight, on Christmas Eve, because it was what she needed – company, energy, excitement – and he would do anything, everything, to give Lily Evans, now Potter, whatever it was that she needed.

* * *

James took the Cloak and went round to Remus's place. Sirius was indeed there, sleeping off an all-night mission, and Remus was in the midst of looking over papers. They were happy to see him, and sorely tempted by the thought of Christmas cookies – but they were busy. They apologized. Remus suddenly remembered that he and Sirius had bought James and Lily Christmas gifts ages ago – they knew they would forget – and went to fetch them.

There was no trace of Christmas here. No trees, no garlands, not even a cozy fire. The war, after all, did not stop for a trifle like Christmas. It made James sadder than he could say, seeing this apartment, as still and quiet as their cottage, and remembering a time when Christmas meant pulling crackers in the Gryffindor common room, eating a great feast at the House tables or perhaps a dinner at home with his parents if he happened to be at home, exchanging gifts and drinking egg nog and butterbeer and listening to music on the radio.

James did not feel twenty years old, waiting for Remus to fetch the presents. He considered doing a stupid twenty-year-old thing – sending a jet of water from his wand into Sirius's face to wake him up, or simply screaming in his ear and cackling as his friend hexed him and spat profanities at him – but he decided to just let Sirius rest. He must have had a long night, to be sleeping as soundly as he was now, his face so relaxed and untroubled in sleep.

Remus arrived holding two gift-bags, a blue one for James and a red one for Lily. He wished them a Merry Christmas and apologized again. James thanked him, pulled on the Cloak, and with a crack Apparated to Alice and Frank Longbottom's place.

* * *

He rang their doorbell for several minutes before he realized that they weren't home. Probably out on Order business, or perhaps even with family on Christmas Eve. Their son, Neville, was Harry's age; of course their family would want to see him.

Alice and Frank both had their parents. Lily's parents were in protective custody, until the threat of the prophecy subsided – Dumbledore didn't want them tortured for information on the Potters – and James's parents were both dead. His mother in sixth year, his father the year before. There were no grandparents to dote on Harry this year.

James rang the doorbell one last time, counted to ten, then wore the Cloak and Apparated to Bathilda's.

* * *

Bathilda wasn't home either, but apparently she had been expecting James. She had left a basket of homemade Cauldron Cakes and treacle tart on her doorstep, with a note saying, _Help yourselves! Out tonight; will drop by with presents tomorrow._

Touched, James took the basket and went home.

* * *

Lily had the whole house furiously scrubbed and decorated by the time James arrived. The wreaths were up in the living room, filling the house with merry voices, and she had strung garlands of poinsettias and holly all around the house. She had also sprayed some kind of minty scent around the place, which was a little overwhelming but admittedly rather festive. The cookies were done, and she had evidently been waiting for him to come back before she iced them; all the supplies were laid out neatly on the kitchen table. Harry sat in his high chair with one of the plain cookies – he had drooled-on crumbs all over his mouth, fingers, bib and chair, but he screeched with pleasure at the sight of his father.

"Looks good," said James, grinning as he kissed Lily, briefly but deeply on the lips. "You've outdone yourself." He then turned to Harry, who gave James a bright gingerbread smile, and said, "Clearly you've outdone yourself as well, haven't you, Harry? It'll be good fun giving _you_ a bath tonight."

Harry stuck his thumb in his mouth and cooed.

"Well, Lily, Remus and Sirius were busy with work – too busy for free _cookies_, if you can imagine that – but Remus gave us gifts. I figured we can stop by and give them theirs later. And old Batty wasn't home tonight, but she left us snacks." He presented the basket to his wife, who set it on the counter.

For a brief moment, she looked quite put out – but then her smile came right back, like a handy mask, and she said, "That was very sweet of her! Well, no matter, we can have a party here instead. Just the three of us." She took out the bowl of treacle tart and the box of Cauldron Cakes and put them on the table along with the cookie materials.

"Here, do you want to get started with your cookie?" She gestured to the array of frosting tubes. "You can decorate them however you like. I made sure we had all the colors."

Harry began to fuss, holding his hands out and gesturing desperately towards the cookies. Lily kissed the top of Harry's head and handed him another cookie, which halted his crying at once. He happily bit into the cookie and then banged it on the high chair's tray, watching in fascination as the cookie crumbled between his sticky little fingers.

Lily sat down at the table and began to decorate a cookie with green frosting. She was making a border with the kind of precision and concentration she used to give to her homework and exams, back in school. She made the same face then too – her brow furrowed, her back hunched, her teeth biting down hard on one side of her mouth, making her lower lip on the other side bulge out a little.

He sat at the table beside her, not bothering to touch his cookie, and watched her as she fell apart. He watched as her eyes got cloudy, as she she bit down even harder on her lip, as her fingers began to shake. She finished the neat green border of her cookie, set down the green tube of frosting, and then burst into tears, shielding her head with her arms as she buried her face into the table.

"Lily, Lily…" His heart was like an egg yolk poked dead center; he felt it leak into the spaces between his ribs as he leaned into her, ran his hand up and down her back.

She just cried harder at that, her breaths shallow and wet with snot and tears. Harry, seeming to sense a disturbance in his little world, stopped destroying his cookie and stared in concerned fascination at his mother. Her shoulders shook as she kept crying. Harry fussed again, reaching his arms out towards his mother – but she didn't even seem to register the sound.

Within seconds, Harry started crying too – with his mother was crying and ignoring him, crying himself seemed as good an option as any – and James sat between the two of them, his hand still on Lily's back, his eyes on his infant son, crying in the high chair. From the living room, the wreaths sang, "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year."

He chose to deal with Harry first; James picked up Harry from the high chair and took him to the sink, washing off the remnants of Christmas cookie off of his hands and face. Harry liked being walked – Lily used to put him to sleep like that all the time, walking around and around the nursery, patting his back and holding him close – so James walked Harry up to the nursery, patting his back like Lily did, listening to his shallow baby breaths slow down, his sobs subside.

James lay Harry in his crib and gave him a teething toy to suck on. He definitely had his first teeth coming in soon; Lily had felt the faint ridges in his gums the previous day, and predicted hard nights ahead, trying to soothe a teething baby. Harry took the toy – a small ring that changed colors – and immediately put it in his mouth, soothed by the cool plastic against his hot gums.

_If only it was still that easy to find comfort_, James mused, watching as Harry sucked on his toy and reached for his mobile. The tears had not yet dried from his son's face, yet Harry had already found the next distraction, taking solace in the fact that everything was all right and would continue to be so.

James left Harry with the toy and the mobile and went back downstairs to Lily. She had risen from her spot on the table, and wiped her eyes with a tissue; she was blowing her nose when he came down to sit with her. Her eyes were puffy and red, as was her nose, and her shoulders were curled inward; she looked very defeated, somehow. She managed a weak smile at James as she took another tissue.

"I'm sorry about that," she said. "Thank you for taking Harry."

He reached for her hand; she didn't withdraw it from the table, and he squeezed it tight. "I'm sorry that this hasn't exactly been a merry Christmas Eve, Lils. I know you tried."

She sighed at that, unable to even muster a smile. "I'm sorry I pushed so hard."

"Well, _some_one had to."

She just stared at her green-bordered cookie, her eyes hollow.

"Lily…Lily, please talk to me."

"I…don't know, James. I'm sorry. I don't know. I don't know." Her face crumpled; she was near tears again.

James got up and took Lily's hand, and led her to the living room couch. She didn't challenge him. He sat on the couch and gathered her up in his lap and she let him hug her like he had hugged Harry – patting her back, stroking her hair. The wreaths were finishing up "Jingle Bells"; James pointed his wand at them and put a Silencing Charm on them, and held Lily close, close enough to hear his heartbeat in their now silent house, their depressingly festive living room.

"Lily, please talk to me," he whispered again into her hair. Bizarrely, he was close to tears himself, watching Lily, his beautiful Lily, so bouncy and strong and energetic, lose control like this.

"This doesn't feel like Christmas," she said. "Since when does Sirius turn down cookies?"

"To be fair, he didn't get a chance, he was asleep," James noted.

"Yes, but when does Sirius ever sleep before two in the morning?" Lily countered. "When are Remus and Alice and Frank not around for Christmas? When am I asleep on the couch instead of celebrating? We only did our tree two nights ago, because we realized with a jolt that Christmas was here and we hadn't done anything about it."

"I know, it's…it's sad, it's strange, it doesn't make any sense," he said, holding her tighter as the truth of it all sank in. "But Lils, I'm here. I'm here. That won't change."

She rested her cheek against his chest, and said into his sweater, "None of this is right."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

She lifted her head up and shifted so that she was sitting on the couch beside him, facing him with her eyes like sharply-cut gemstones, gleaming in the honey light of the house. "James…there is a war going on right now. A war we ought to be fighting. Our friends are dying. Dorcas Meadowes died last week – _last week_, James, she never made it to this Christmas. And we are stuck here. In the house. Doing paperwork. It's not right."

"Lily—"

"Why should they be dying when I am changing nappies?" she demanded. "Why are we doing things we are far too over-qualified to do, when we could be doing things that matter? Why am I making Christmas cookies while Remus is working on a mission for the Order?"

"Lily, you know why that is, it's because of the prophecy, Dumbledore said—"

"It's all very well for _Dumbledore_ to say, he's busy calling all the shots!" Lily cried, reaching a near-shout. "He's running the whole show! He is fighting Voldemort, and we are sitting around here. Sitting around, hoping someone will visit us. Hoping there is good news – or, at least, no news, because that means someone we love hasn't died tonight."

"You think I'm _enjoying_ this?" Somehow stung, offended, James found himself crossing his arms and shouting back at her. "You think this is what _I _wanted to be doing? You don't think I don't want to be out there with my friends, doing the job I signed up to do the minute I left Hogwarts? I hate being trapped here too! I hate paperwork too! I miss the way things used to be. But you know why it is, and we can't argue with that. Harry is our top priority. For Harry, we will do anything."

"Of course we will do anything for Harry – but James, this is wearing on my nerves." She wiped her tears away with her palm – somehow calmer now, after James's outburst. "We spend so much of our time alone here. I just, I get restless. And you do too. And we snipe at each other. And I do stupid things like spoil our Christmas Eve."

He felt himself soften, melt all the way down to nothing. "Lily, sweetheart, you didn't spoil Christmas Eve."

"I did." She looked him in the eye, resolute.

"Lily." He put his arms out and hugged her again, feeling her softness, her warmth, the itchy wool of her sweater against his body. "Lily, you couldn't spoil anything if you tried."

She chuckled weakly – weakly, but audibly. "Stop it."

He kissed her cheek and released her. "I know this has been rough. I know the attack on Dorcas really shook you up. I know you hate being stuck here all the time. I feel the same way, Lils."

"I just…I wonder if this is ever going to end," she confessed. "If this war is ever going to be over. It doesn't seem like it. The world has gone mad, absolutely mad. This is no place to raise a child. Sometimes, I want to pack my bags, grab you and Harry, and get out of here. Move to Switzerland, or Italy, or even America. Just get away from here somehow."

"You know we can't do that."

"I know. But sometimes I want to."

"We have to stay here. This is our home, the one we're going to fix. This _is _going to end soon." He cupped her face in his hand, ran his thumb down the curve of her cheek. "We've got Dumbledore, and we've got an Order that is going to keep fighting, and never stop. Because that's the thing we have that they don't, remember?"

Her eyes – that extraordinary green, deep and rich and flecked with hints of brown – glistened, brimming with tears. She _didn't_ remember; she needed him to remind her.

And he did.

"Forgive me the cliché, but…but, well, love is our greatest resistance," he told her. "And you and me? We're strong enough to survive this. For each other. For Harry."

"For us, and for Harry," she repeated back in a whisper, almost like an incantation.

Holding back a sob, her eyes wet with tears she couldn't hold back, she leans in and presses her forehead against James's, her hands finding his, their fingers interlocking, squeezing tight. She exhaled, slow and shaky but still steady, and her breath mingled with his in the small space between their mouths.

From the nursery upstairs, they heard the baby crying. Harry, feeling neglected in his crib, made his presence known with an almighty yell that could have awoken half the neighborhood. Lily kissed James's forehead and went upstairs to get him. She picked him up from the crib and balanced him on her hip, his weight warm and comforting against her as she went down the stairs. He was still holding his teething ring, and banged it affectionately against Lily's collarbone. She shifted him to her other side and tickled his stomach with her free hand, making him shriek with laughter. She took away the teething ring before it could do more damage, and left it on the kitchen table. He giggled and buried his head into her neck.

She brought him to the living room couch where James awaited. At once, Harry wriggled and squirmed and lunged for his father. James grinned and accepted the baby, blowing into Harry's stomach and making him scream. Lily curled up beside the two of them, grinning as James kissed Harry's head, pulled out his wand, and conjured up bubbles for him to play with.

Delighted, Harry reached for the bubbles, and jumped, startled, when they popped. As he did so, Lily had a sudden stroke of inspiration and ran to the coat cupboard. There she found the Santa hat she had bought for Harry weeks ago. She returned to the couch and placed it on his head. Harry, busy with the bubbles, didn't even notice.

"I know you're too young to understand it, but Merry Christmas, Harry," she whispered in his ear as she gave him another kiss. "May it be the first of many."

Harry popped another bubble and laughed at it for a good fifteen seconds. Lily rested her head against James's shoulder and watched James conjure more bubbles, and Harry pop them with glee.

* * *

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